


A Tale of Two Elves

by wightfaerie



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 00:55:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wightfaerie/pseuds/wightfaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is just a silly little Christmas story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Tale of Two Elves

  


 

  
**A Tale of Two Elves**

**Santa stood at the front of his workshop with the list of toys that he had compiled from the day's letters. He waited patiently for his troop of elves to turn off the machines and gather for their work quota.**

**Children's wishes this year seemed to be more demanding. The workshop was in full swing, and it appeared that some work stations were still littered with yesterday's presents.**

**The worst of it was that some of the elves were acting strangely lately. His usual throng of happy helpers had developed a variety of personalities and emotions in the past twelve months. Santa knew what a strain December could be on these little guys. And the two new elves who had joined him this year were possibly the catalyst that had changed the whole merry band's dynamics.**

**Santa turned to his Head elf. "Golon, an update on your progress, please," he said to the bespectacled plump elf to his right.**

**Golon straightened, puffing out his chest with importance. "All elves present and correct. Workstations one, two, four and five are all on schedule." He looked at blond haired Hutch and dark, curly haired Starsky. "Workstation three is a little behind."**

**"That is because we have the hardest task," moaned Hutch, the grumpiest of the pair. "Too many children want bicycles this year, and not just the standard production ones. No, they want colored wheels, special seats, and silly designs. Special orders take time that we don't have."**

**"Will you quit complaining?" Starsky dug his hands into the back pocket of his ridiculously tight jeans and smiled.**

**How Santa wished he hadn't allowed his elves to wear their own clothes. It was so much easier on the eyes when they had all worn the regulation green.**

**"Ain't nothing wrong with the kids wanting bikes that they actually like," Starsky said happily.**

**"You'd better get back to work then," Santa told the pair. "We've got wishes for another eight bicycles today." He handed the list to Hutch.**

**Hutch looked at the paper and rolled his eyes. "Great. More spoiled brats to indulge," he muttered under his breath.**

**Not low enough for Santa to miss the comment, however. Could Santa stand another few weeks of Hutch's complaining? The elf looked like an angel with his blond hair and striking blue eyes, but the closer it came to Christmas, the grumpier he got. Santa had never met an elf who didn't enjoy his Christmas work.**

**Choosing to ignore Hutch's ungraciousness, Santa turned to Sirdhemon and Mormerilon, who manned stations one and two. He handed the new requests to Sirdhemon. "Are you still sneezing, Sird?" he asked.**

**"Yes, Santa. Achoo." Sirdhemon looked sheepishly at Santa. "It's the stuffing in the toys. Gets right up my nose, it does." He turned to his partner. "Come on, Mormery. Got us another batch to make."**

**"Okay," said the playful Mormerilon, snatching the paper from Sird and skipping around the benches in the workshop.**

**Santa handed another list to Abladon, who blushed and took the paper in silence, retreating quickly to workstation four. Santa had long since stopped trying to draw the extremely shy elf into conversation. He respected the quiet, studious way that Ab approached both his work and lifestyle.**

**Finally, Santa turned to his quality control elf, Saeledhel. The elf might always look weary and be able to fall to sleep at the drop of a hat, but he was the most observant elf that Santa had ever had. "How are we doing on quality control, Sael?"**

**Saeledhel yawned. "Ninety five percent perfect," he said finally.**

**Santa nodded. "Good. Now back to work, everyone." He watched the elves rush to their workstations.**

**Golon did a check on each machine before going to his own workstation, number five.**

**There seemed to be some animated conversation going on at workstation three. Santa walked into his office and turned on the Elf cams, zooming in for a closer look at Starsky and Hutch. They were an errant pair, if ever he saw one. The workshop wasn’t really the place for elves with such fire in their bellies.**

*******

**"What is your problem?" Starsky said to Hutch over the clunk of the machinery. "I thought you liked kids. Yet you don't want them to have nice presents."**

**Hutch scowled, the crevice between his eyes getting deeper by the second. "I do like kids. But not the spoiled brats that ask for these designer bicycles. They want so much more than the poor kids." He banged a wheel with multi-colored, diamond cut spokes onto the worktop. "How much do you think this bike costs to make compared to that one?" He pointed to a crudely painted red bike in the corner. "Jimmy knew that his parents couldn't afford a new bike, so he said he was happy with a second-hand one. If it was red, that would be good, but if not, he didn't mind what color Santa sent. That's the spirit of Christmas, being grateful for what you get, for life." Hutch thumped the thick tire on the flashy wheel. "Not this commercial crap that gives a kid one-up-man ship on his peers."**

**Starsky sighed. "You really don't like people being happy at Christmas, do you?" He polished the handlebars of the bike they were working on.**

**"I just don't like the phony wave of euphoric sentimentalism that the world seems to have adopted. It's about time that people remembered the real meaning of Christmas." Hutch pushed the wheel to one side and grabbed the second one.**

**"Euphoric sentimentalism!" Starsky glared at Hutch with a look that said, I don't think I'm gonna like this. "And you're the elf to tell them this?"**

**Hutch stuck his index finger in Starsky's face. "Yeah, I might just be."**

**Starsky laughed. "Okay, big man. Wha'cha gonna do about it?" He attached the stem of the handlebars to the front of the bike.**

**Hutch poked his thumb in his chest. "Maybe I'll go down there and educate them." He looked at their work list. "Bay City seems to be a good place to start. Don't you ever read the People’s News? That city has so much despair. There are many people wishing that Christmas wasn't right around the corner." He screwed up his face. Every week, more stories of woe had reached their little corner of the North Pole. Kids losing their parents to poverty, crime, depression and oppression. Woman hooking to feed their kids, or sometimes just themselves. Junkies pushing up the statistics to feed their habit. The world was going to hell. "Why doesn't Santa try to right the wrongs of the world, instead of feeding the greed?"**

**"Hutch, you can't say that," Starsky said incredulously. "Santa isn't God. It's not his fault that people use him as an excuse to ask for the most expensive presents."**

**"But it is his fault that he allows it." Hutch swept his arm around the room. "When did he stop being Saint Nicholas of Myra and give up on the poor? Most of these rich kids haven't been good this year. Yet here we are making them presents that are more expensive than all the poor kids put together. Kids who have not only been good and thoughtful, but are apologizing for even daring to send a letter to Santa and asking for the most basic of gifts. Some aren't even asking for things for themselves, they want others to be happy first."**

**"Times change." Starsky finished assembling the special bike. "Santa has to change with it. It ain't the fourth century anymore."**

**"Bull," Hutch spat. "The world's turned ugly and I don't have to be a part of it. I'm making a stand. I refuse to make any more presents for rich kids. My priority is the kids who ask for very little. I'm gonna make their wildest dreams come true."**

**"That's a rash statement," Starsky cautioned.**

**"Elf Hutch. Elf Starsky. To my office, now," boomed Santa's voice through the loudspeaker.**

**"Now you've done it with your opinions," Starsky hissed as Hutch stomped towards Santa's door.**

*******

**Santa sat behind his desk, arms folded, staring at the entrance to his office.**

**Hutch burst through his door at break-neck speed. "You called, Santa," he said, having the grace to look a little contrite.**

**Starsky followed Hutch, closing the door behind them. "Santa," he said.**

**"Boys," Santa acknowledged them. "Do we have a problem?"**

**"No. Production's back on track," Starsky said, though his glance at Hutch made it obvious that he knew what Santa really meant. It was commendable that he wasn't about to drop his partner in the mire.**

**"Yes," Hutch said. "I am not going to be a part of this farce any longer. The lists get longer, more  
ridiculous. And we indulge it. Why?"**

**Santa rubbed his face, tugging at his beard. "Because we have to. Our existence is in the minds of the people." He pointed at the filing cabinets to his right. "Their wish is our command. They are the ones who ultimately decide what gifts are given, and who has been good or bad."**

**"Well, I think it's time that Santa took back Christmas," Hutch announced. "Stop this commercial robbery and return to basics. Mix with the people, retrain their minds to think of others before themselves."**

**"Impossible," bellowed Santa. "I haven't had a mortal body for many centuries."**

**"But we can cross over to the mortal world if we want it enough when we say the words," Hutch stated, clearly remembering the fables from his childhood.**

**"Hutch, you can't be serious." Starsky grabbed Hutch's arm.**

**"Deadly," said Hutch. "I'll do this on my own if I have to."**

**"No way." Starsky shook his head. "Don't I always go along with your hair-brained schemes? Me and thee, always. That was the pact we made back in Elf school."**

**"Elves Starsky and Hutchinson wish to crossover to the mortal world. Please, God of the North Pole, grant this passage," Hutch said, then he repeated the phrase in Saint Nicholas' native Greek. "Ξωτικά Starsky και Hutchinson επιθυμούν να cross over στον θνητό κόσμο. Παρακαλώ το Θεό του από το Βόρειο Πόλο επιχορήγηση αυτό το πέρασμα."**

*******

**Hutch rested his elbow on the open window of the passenger side of the Torino.**

**He and Starsky were cruising down 4th and Jefferson. The reindeer swinging from the rear view mirror was getting on Hutch's last nerve. Starsky chattering on about what Hutch had gotten him for Christmas wasn't helping, either. The hurt look on Starsky's face when Hutch said he hadn't gotten him anything for Christmas stabbed Hutch's conscience, but not enough to give up his principles this year. Yet he felt he had to explain his reasoning.**

**"It's nothing personal," Hutch started with a cliché. "It's just that this year, for the first time, I decided that I was not going to get caught up in that phony wave of euphoric sentimentalism, orchestrated by the clanging of cash registers."**

**Starsky looked at him. "Euphoric sentimentalism!"**

**The way that Starsky echoed Hutch's words hit a chord deep somewhere inside his brain. A flash of another time, another world, ricocheted around his subconscious. He was saying the exact same words to an elf who looked very much like Starsky!**

**Hutch shook the vision out of his head and continued with his rant.**

*******  
   
 _The End_

[](http://wightfaerie.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/343/65748)   


Stolen from Brit's 2011 S&H Advent Calendar submission


End file.
